Space Plague Page 3

  “But what about Kaal?” John asked.

  Dr Kasaria’s face softened. “Your friend is in good hands,” she said quietly. “The ship has excellent medical facilities, and I will do everything I can for him.”

  “He’s going to get better, though, right?”

  “As I said, I will do everything I can for him,” the doctor repeated. “Now, I believe you have an exam starting in ten minutes, and I must treat my patient.”

  John started to protest but closed his mouth. He didn’t want to waste Dr Kasaria’s time when she could be looking after Kaal. Slipping off the examination table, he followed her pointing finger to a machine that looked like a freestanding door frame. The machine buzzed quietly as he walked through, a pink light quickly wrapping around him and disappearing just as rapidly. A light mist hissed over his skin.

  “Disinfection complete,” said the voice.

  John dressed in a new jumpsuit and peered into Kaal’s room. Dr Kasaria was leaning over Kaal’s bed, checking the machines around him. Knowing there was nothing else he could do, John took one last look at his friend and left the medical wing.

  “John, where have you been?” Emmie cried, as John stepped out of the TravelTube. “There’s only a couple of minutes until the exam...” Seeing the expression on John’s face, she stopped. “What’s the matter?”

  “It’s Kaal,” he said. “He’s got Zhaldarian Flu.”

  Emmie stared at him, her eyes wide in shock. For a few moments, she seemed unable to speak. Her golden skin paled. “Oh no,” she said, her voice quivering. “I saw the Meteor Medics disinfecting the dormitory level but just thought someone must have eaten the wrong thing... but this... this is awful.” As John watched, tears formed in the corners of Emmie’s eyes.

  “You know about Zhaldarian Flu?” John asked quickly. “No one’s told me anything. Is Kaal in danger?”

  Emmie nodded dumbly, a tear trickling down her face. “My great-great-grandmother had it when she was a girl,” she answered. “For six months the doctors didn’t know if she was going to live or die. There’s not much the doctors can do. No cure... nothing.”

  By now, other students had noticed the tears rolling down Emmie’s face. A few of Emmie and John’s classmates pressed in around her, concern showing on their faces.

  “Hey, Tarz. Are you OK?” asked Lishtig, a boy from the planet Slarce, whose long, purple ponytail fell almost to the floor. When Emmie didn’t answer, he turned to John. “What’s up, John? Where’s Kaal?”

  “Attention, all students,” a droning electronic voice interrupted.

  Every student looked up. An Examiner was gliding along the corridor. The machine was white, with an egg-shaped body. A red light flickered across its round head as it spoke. In front of it floated a large tray. “A case of Zhaldarian Flu has been confirmed on board Hyperspace High. Each student will wear a medical mask until further notice,” the robot continued.

  A shocked murmur ran through the crowd of students. “But Zhaldarian Flu was eradicated centuries ago,” said Raytanna, her smooth white forehead creasing in concern and her six eyes blinking.

  Lishtig stared hard at John. “It’s Kaal, isn’t it?”

  John nodded.

  “What about the exams?” asked Emmie, reaching into the tray to take a mask. “Have they been cancelled?”

  “Negative. The case has been contained. School activities will continue as normal.”

  John slipped the medical mask over his face. Immediately, the material moulded itself to his skin. It felt a little like he was wearing a spider’s web.

  A chime sounded. At the same time, a door slid open a few yards down the corridor. A pink, snake-like alien slithered through the door. Ms Skrinel – the Cosmic Languages teacher – always left a thin trail of slime behind her wherever she went.

  “Good morning, students,” she said. “The examination will start in ten minutes. Please queue quietly until your name is called, then wait for the Examiner to relieve you of your personal belongings and make your way to your exam cube.”

  John’s eyes widened as he walked through the door into what had been one of Hyperspace High’s sports halls the day before. Now, transparent cubes had been arranged in a square around the giant room.

  “John Riley.”

  John stepped forward. An Examiner scanned him with a beam of blue light. His pockets emptied. The ThinScreen stylus and an old watch he’d brought with him from Earth vanished. His possessions had been broken down into their individual atoms, to be reformed and returned to him at the end of the exam. The Examiners allowed nothing into the exam cubes except the students and the clothes they were wearing. As a result, no one had ever been known to cheat on a Hyperspace High exam.

  “Cube twelve, John Riley,” said Ms Skrinel.

  Nervously, John found his cube. As he sat in a MorphSeat, the clear door swung shut. The cube was small, but its walls quickly moved outward, allowing John more elbow room. The quiet buzz of whispering and Ms Skrinel’s voice were instantly cut off. He was alone, waiting to be examined.

  As the rest of the cubes filled up with students, John breathed deeply. The events of the morning had pushed any thoughts of exams out of his mind but, now, they came flooding back. If he failed, he would not be returning to Hyperspace High. He squeezed his eyes closed, trying to force his brain to focus. Memories of the morning, and of Kaal’s strangely curled-up body, kept forcing their way to the front of his mind.

  Cosmic Languages was not one of John’s best subjects. He had never seen the point of it. The ship’s systems modified sound waves so that all languages were translated into the students’ native tongue. Every word John ever heard on board Hyperspace High was in English, though no one else on board spoke his language. Small devices could be taken off-ship to perform the same task. He had once asked Ms Skrinel why anyone studied Cosmic Languages when everyone could already understand each other perfectly. Her answer had been curt, as if she had answered the same question a thousand times before: “What happens if the computer system goes down? What happens if the device breaks?” Later, Kaal explained that Hyperspace High also taught Cosmic Languages because the students learned a lot about the universe’s many species through the way they communicated. That, John had decided, made much more sense. But right now, John tried to push thoughts of Kaal aside.

  “Oral examination commences,” said a flat voice from nowhere. “Question one: In Derrilian, how would you say, ‘I need assistance’?”

  John choked. Derrilian was Kaal’s native language. “I... uh... I-I’m sorry,” he stammered.

  “Please answer the question.”

  “Ah mur ch’churr jelusiar sha,” John gasped out, with a lump in his throat.

  The rest of the examination was a blur to John. Somehow, he managed to answer every question, but as the cube clicked open after an hour, he had no idea whether his answers had been correct. It hardly seemed important now.

  Emmie was waiting for him just outside the entrance to the examination hall, her face etched with worry. As soon as the Examiner had restored John’s belongings, she grabbed his arm and pulled him towards the TravelTube without saying a word.

  A few minutes later they were sitting at a table on the grass in the Centre, a colossal space that served the students as a vast park and common room. Around them tall trees with leaves of green, gold, and yellow stretched towards the huge, transparent dome above. A few metres away, a small group of students splashed in the shallows of the lake. Most, however, walked past looking serious, their faces covered with white medical masks. News of the Zhaldarian Flu outbreak was all over the ship and, for once, the Centre was nearly empty. John stared up at the rings of balconies circling the vast space. Few of the stores and cafés had any customers.

  John dropped his gaze, looking into Emmie’s troubled eyes, unable to think of anything to say. They were both wra
pped in their own thoughts. To cover the silence, John picked up the ham sandwich he had ordered from the food dispenser hut and nibbled a corner. With a sigh, he put it down again.

  “He’ll be OK, Emmie,” he said, knowing it was a lie. “Kaal’s going to be OK. Dr Kasaria—”

  Emmie’s head jerked up suddenly. “Oh no,” she groaned. “Not him. Not now.”

  John turned his head. Mordant Talliver was approaching their table across the grass, a smirk on his face. “Rats,” he breathed. “Keep cool, Emmie. You know he’s going to try and wind us up.”

  Mordant stopped next to their table, G-Vez floating around his shoulders. “I heard your friend is feeling poorly, Riley,” he said, sounding sly. “How unfortunate that he has to miss exams. Maybe you two should try the same thing.”

  John felt his hands curl into fists beneath the table. Opposite him, Emmie hissed sharply.

  “Just say what you came to say and then get lost,” John said between clenched teeth.

  “What young Master Talliver is trying to tell you, is that—”

  “Be quiet, G-Vez, I can speak for myself,” snapped the half-Gargon boy.

  “I am so terribly sorry, young sir. Please do carry on.”

  “I said shut up, stupid droid.” Mordant batted the flashing metal ball away and turned back to John and Emmie. “As I was saying,” he said, with a sneer. “Maybe you’d both be better off if you followed your friend’s example and spent the next few days in the medical wing instead of sitting the rest of the exams.”

  “Are you saying Kaal’s faking?” growled John, rising.

  “John, keep cool. Remember what you just said,” Emmie cautioned.

  Ignoring her, Mordant shrugged. “Whether he’s faking or not, it’s win-win, really,” he gloated. “If your friend isn’t faking, you’ve shared a room with him, so it’s pretty much certain you’ll get Zhaldarian Flu, too. If he is faking, you still have to take the exams. You’re bound to fail and get chucked out. Either way, I won’t be seeing you around here much longer.”

  “John, stop!” shouted Emmie.

  Too late. John hurled himself across the table, fists swinging. The two boys went down in a tangle of arms, legs, and tentacles. “Get off me!” squealed Mordant. “You’ll give me your foul disease.”

  “You are scum,” John choked as a thick, black tentacle curled round his neck. Another held him back. With sudden force, they were jerked apart.

  “How very disappointing,” said Doctor Graal.

  The tentacle unwound from John’s neck. Gasping, John stepped back from the glowering teacher as Mordant staggered to his feet.

  “He started it!” yelped Mordant. “Tell her, G-Vez. John threw the first punch.”

  Doctor Graal interrupted before the small droid could speak. “I know what happened,” she said. “I saw it all. You are very lucky I haven’t called the Examiners.” Turning from John to Mordant, her red eyes fiery, she went on, “Your Galactic Geography exam is tomorrow and yet you are wasting your time fighting instead of revising. This is the sort of behaviour we expect from primitive species, not Hyperspace High students.”

  “But Mordant said—” John began.

  The Gargon teacher cut him off with a wave of her tentacle. “I am not interested in your arguments,” she said in a haughty voice. “Go and study immediately, John Riley. There will be no special allowances just because your friend is ill.”

  Chapter 5

  “Each of you will each enter a simulation module and pilot a Class-II Training Dart through twelve solar systems, following the route laid in to your astrometric charts,” barked Sergeant Jegger, strutting on three legs along the line of waiting students. Behind him were rows of t-dart simulation cockpits, which looked to John like large photo booths. Stopping at the centre of the line, Jegger turned to face the class, his iron-grey moustache bristling. “Marks will be awarded for skilful avoidance of obstacles. The computer will also instruct you to land on a planet and take off again. Crashing your simulated ship means an immediate fail.”

  He paused for a second, peering at John through his two good eyes, the third hidden behind an eye patch. “Are you listening to me, Cadet Riley?”

  “Sir, yes, sir,” John replied smartly, groaning inwardly. Since arriving on Hyperspace High, he had crashed twice. Nevertheless, Space Flight was one of the few exams that he felt confident of passing. The first crash had only happened because he had never before piloted a spaceship; the second because Mordant Talliver had made him lose control of a Xi-Class Privateer by playing chicken with John’s craft. In spite of the two accidents, John had become an accomplished space pilot this term. Sergeant Jegger never let him forget the crashes but had told him, in his gruff manner, that he was “satisfied” with John’s progress. In all the class, John was now second only to Emmie in the cockpit of a spaceship.

  “You will have two hours to complete your sweep,” snapped Jegger, interrupting John’s thoughts. “Points will be given for speed but deducted for reckless flying,” he said, flashing a glance at Mordant.

  “Sir,” snapped Mordant.

  The sergeant checked the time. “Enter your modules now. The simulation will commence in three point zero six minutes.”

  John climbed into one of the black cubes, looking around in surprise as the door shut behind him. Hyperspace High’s level of technology was far beyond anything on Earth. If he hadn’t known he was in a simulator, there was no way he would have guessed it wasn’t a real ship. In front of him, the control panel adjusted to his height and reach. Outside of the cockpit was a perfect computer-generated view of Hyperspace High’s main hangar deck. Before him were the bay doors that opened onto the vastness of space.

  “Thirty seconds,” Jegger growled in his ear, as John pulled on his flying helmet. “It’s only a simulation, cadets, but bring it back in one piece.”

  After the safety harness strapped him into his seat, John gripped the control stick.

  “In three... two... one.”

  “Simulation begins,” said the voice of the t-dart’s computer. Ahead of John, the bay doors slid open.

  “Pre flight checks,” John rapped out automatically.

  “All systems verify ready.”

  “Astrometrics.”

  A 3-D chart of the galaxy appeared on an electronic display in the centre of the control panel. Beside it, instructions scrolled past. John studied it for a moment. “Plot course for Tantarus Prime,” he instructed the computer. “Take off on my mark.”

  Reaching out, John punched the power screen up to 500. The simulator module began to vibrate. Gripping the control stick, he pulled the stick backward gently. The t-dart’s nose lifted off the deck.

  “Mark,” snapped John, flicking the flight button on top of the stick at the same moment.

  In a roar of power, the training ship slammed through the open doors and into space.

  “Take-off executed. Course laid in,” said the computer, as the little ship swept past the great bulk of Hyperspace High and out towards the stars.

  Checking the astrometric screen, John adjusted his course, bringing the spaceship round until it was on a heading towards the first system on its tour. Satisfied, he tapped another screen. “Jump to hyperspace factor ten in three, two, one...” He hit another button. “Jump.”

  On the astrometric screen, John could see that he was already closing in on Tantarus Prime. He looked around himself, the thrill of space flight turning his skin to goosebumps. Although he was just flying a simulation, it felt exactly like he was speeding through space at a speed ten times faster than light. It was a sensation that was impossible to beat. Better than any video game on Earth, he thought. For a few moments, even Kaal was forgotten. Stars rushing past the cockpit, John said very quietly to himself, “Whoa.”

  The computer interrupted his thoughts. “Approaching Tantarus Prime.”
>
  John glanced at the screen. “Plot course for the Secundia Nebula,” he instructed. Bringing the ship around gently, he continued, “And increase speed to hyperspace factor two hundred.” A sudden grin appeared on his face. If marks were being awarded for speed, he was going to try for every extra point he could get. Clutching the control stick grimly, John forgot everything but getting his ship around the course as quickly as possible.

  “Asteroid field ahead,” the computer told him twenty minutes later.

  “At one thousand kilometres, drop out of hyperspace,” John replied. This, he knew, would be the first of many obstacles Jegger would have plotted around the course.

  The ship slowed. Smoothly, John moved the control stick, sending the tiny ship dodging past massive, spinning mountains of ice and rock like a swallow diving for insects. A boulder filled his screen, hurtling towards him. Tensing, John jerked the stick, watching as the small asteroid sailed past, only a few metres away. A breath of relief escaped between his teeth in a slow hiss.

  Jegger would’ve killed me if I crashed.

  “Asteroid field cleared.”

  “Plot course for the L’Quara System and jump to hyperspace factor three hundred in three, two, one... jump.”

  Sergeant Jegger had plotted the course so that the students had to navigate through gigantic nebulae and clouds of gas, past black holes, and between blooming supernovas. Dropping out of hyperspace only when necessary and pushing the t-dart to ever higher speeds whenever he had a clear run through space, John raced through the simulated galaxy.

  “Make landing on planet Altore Three, then return to Hyperspace High,” the computer told him eventually.

  John tensed again. Landings were always nerve-racking. Stay cool, John. You can do this in your sleep, he told himself. Steady, steady...

  The t-dart hit the planet’s atmosphere with a jolt. Decreasing speed, John checked his sensor displays. “Coming in too steep,” he muttered, pulling the stick back slightly. The ship stabilized. Clouds whipped past the cockpit. As the t-dart drove through them into clear air, John scanned the planet’s surface for a suitable landing space. He was descending over a vast, swirling ocean, but there was a dark mass of land off to his right. Vapour billowed from the ship’s stubby wings. John turned, fingers jabbing at screens once more. “Prime jets, activate landing gear,” he told the computer, as the craft roared over the coast. “Aaaaand, down.”